The caller asked for me by a name I have not used in almost forty years—definitely someone from my past, I thought, but I did not recognize the voice.
It turned out to be a woman I had known in my twenties; we have not seen one another in more than thirty years. We had worked together and were even housemates for a while, and then I moved to another state and we lost contact. She said the Lord had placed my name in her mind and she decided to look me up.
“You’ve been serving the Lord,” she said.
I have, haven’t I? I thought.
As I reflected on that call the next morning at prayer, words from Amazing Grace flitted through my mind—I was lost, but now am found.
I was a lost soul in my twenties and it took me a long time to find my way. This woman had been with me through some of my darkest days and she saw me at my lowest— scared, hopeless, on the wrong path. I was still in a pretty dark place the last time I saw her.
Over time, though, my choices started to move me away from the darkness and toward the light. It took lots of prayer and God’s unending patience and mercy, but I finally felt like I was growing into the person God created me to be.
Then, two years ago, I moved to be near my family. Although I have returned “home,” in most ways I am starting over. As with many transitions, this one has left me feeling a bit unsettled. What was has been left behind, and what is to be is still unfolding.
I have been asking God, “What do you want me to do?”
“A new king, who knew nothing of Joseph, came to power in Egypt,” I read the other day (Exodus 1:8).
“Why are you telling me this, God?” I asked. What does this new king in Egypt have to do with me?
And then I thought about who is leading my life. In Exodus, the new king was fearful and set about to enslave the Israelites. Am I being ruled by fear? I wondered. Is fear holding me back? Is that what God is pointing out to me?
Upon reflection I can see that I have been feeling vulnerable and a bit unsure of myself because my life does not look like it once did. It does not have the activity level it has had in the past—friends and church and civic activities. My evenings and weekends are often devoid of scheduled events. I can go whole days without talking to anyone but the dog.
I sometimes feel like I am drifting through this time of transition.
My new house has a sun porch, the perfect place to read or just linger. Looking out over the flowers, watching the hummingbird at the hanging fuchsia, counting the lightening bugs at dusk—my summer is the summer of a carefree child. Little things bring great joy—hearing the owl on my morning walk or watching a squirrel grab an apple from my neighbor’s tree.
Transition time stretches out ahead of me, inviting tentative steps into the unknown.
Perhaps more activity will come in the fall. Perhaps God will invite me to a new ministry, but for now, I am trying to let go of my anxieties and fears and to be content with enjoying the summer, trusting that this unsettled time is temporary and certain that the Lord is leading me.